


Poetry And Art

by ALIENT0L0GIST



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28448778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALIENT0L0GIST/pseuds/ALIENT0L0GIST
Summary: Just when Will thinks his life has gone back to normal, he gets a letter from Hannibal regarding the recent "Tooth Fairy" murders. Everything comes crashing down faster than he ever could have predicted, and he finds himself wanting to see the cannibal. What will happen when the two see each other again?
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Molly Graham/Will Graham, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 1





	Poetry And Art

Will parks in front of his old cabin. From time to time, he came here to relive the conversations he had with Hannibal the night he turned himself in. He remembers how he had told Hannibal he wouldn't miss him. Will scoffs quietly to himself.  If only Will had known how much he would miss Hannibal. Day after day, the man clung to his every waking thought and action, even in the smallest ways. Whenever Will looked in the mirror, he judged himself the way Hannibal would. He moved with dignity and purpose, back straight. 

He unlocks the front door, stepping inside. The house is void of furniture, but it definitely isn't empty. The drones of conversations with Alana, Hannibal, Jack, and even Georgia Madchen lash at him from the dark corners of the room. He rubs his face in an effort to clear his head, heaving a trembling sigh. 

\--2 WEEKS EARLIER--

Will sits at the table, head in his hands. It seems as though everything is crashing down around him; his eyes scan over the same paragraph, again and again.

“ Dear Will, we have all found a new life, but our old lives hover in the shadows, like incipient madness. Soon enough, I fear Jack Crawford will come knocking. I would encourage you, as a friend, not to step back through the door he holds open. It's dark on the other side and madness is waiting."

Why? Why, after all this time, did Hannibal have to send him a letter? Will was finally grasping onto the term "normal" after 3 years of therapy and psychiatrist visits. Yet, here he was, longing to go back to the man he was with Hannibal. Tears sting his eyes, and Will blinks them away. He misses Hannibal more than he wants to admit. There were still whispers about him and the older man roaming the halls of where he taught. Even Price and Zeller had said a few things, followed by the shushing of Jack Crawford and fake smiles. Will balls his hands into fists, slamming one onto the table. How dare they talk about what happened behind his back? How could they act like they knew what had happened between Will and Hannibal? They hadn't the slightest clue...

After reading the letter one last time, Will looks over to the newspaper clipping tucked into the envelope. He pulls it out and scans over it. With a sigh, he rises swiftly, gripping the papers in his hands. He tosses them into the fire, watching the flames lap at the parchment, consuming it and burning holes. He remembers how they "burned" Freddie Lounds and how Hannibal reacted, monologuing about how fire is both creator and destroyer. Both beneficiary and benefactor. 

He turns on his heels and makes his way to the front door, unlocking it; dark, toxic yearning courses through his veins. He has to calm down before he heads to bed. He steps out onto the porch, the night air cool against his skin. He places his elbows on the porch railing, looking up into the night sky. The full moon shines brilliantly, illuminating his face. Closing his eyes, he thinks about the last time he had seen Hannibal. How the snow fell gently, and car headlights beamed on him—the deadened look in Hannibal's eyes and the anger flaring in Wills. 

" _ Is that really how you remember me, Will?" A familiar voice rings out from behind him. Will opens his eyes and looks next to himself as Hannibal takes place next to him. "It's been a long while since you've visited me here. Why now?"  _

_ Will keeps himself from rolling his eyes as he looks back out into the night sky. "Do you really have to ask?" There's a pause, "Why did you send the letter, Hannibal? What are you playing at?"  _

_ "Must you think so little of me? Even though I am locked away, I still have your best interest in mind. You're my friend, Will." Hannibal copies Will's motions before continuing, "How is life treating you? Well, I hope?"  _

_ Will scoffs quietly. "It's going as well as you should expect." _

_ "Meaning?"  _

_ "Meaning it's built on sand and lies. Molly doesn't know anything about me except for half-truths, and Walter knows more than I'm comfortable with." Will pauses. "Having to reassure an 11-year old that I'm not a psychopath is the worst feeling in the world." He puts his head in his hands. "Even though I have a family, I feel so detached." _

_ Hannibal places a tender hand on Will's shoulder as he speaks, "That's because you are alone here. Molly doesn't see you, nor would she accept you if she could. She wouldn't be able to handle the beast you harbor inside." He sighs. _

_ "What do I do, Hannibal? What do I do when Jack comes knocking?" Will looks over at the older man, who smiles lightly, their eyes meeting. _

_ "Come see me, Will. Come pay me a visit." And with that, Hannibal vanishes into smoke.  _

Will opens his eyes, looking at the moon. He lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. With a newfound determination, he heads back inside. He had to see Hannibal, and soon.

\----

The next morning, the family clamors haphazardly around the kitchen, attempting to eat breakfast and get ready for work and school. Wally feeds bits of his toast to the dogs before grabbing his backpack with a smile.

"Are you picking me up today?" Wally asks Will, taking his lunchbox, which Molly holds out to him.

"Sorry, kiddo. I’m gonna be busy this afternoon." Will shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth as he watches the smile drop from his son's face. "I tell ya what." he swallows the eggs, "If you have your homework done by the time I get home, we can go get ice cream then watch a movie." 

"Deal!" Wally exclaims, smiling widely then hugging Will, who hugs him back. Wally darts out the door, closing it with a snap. Molly giggles to herself as she eats her toast.

"What's got you busy this afternoon?" She raises her brows at Will, who smiles at her before finishing the few bites of egg on his plate. He couldn't tell her he was running off to see Hannibal over picking up his son from school.

"Just work, Molls. I shouldn't be home too late. Maybe two hours later than usual." He stands and places his plate in the sink, pressing a kiss to Molly's forehead. "See you when I get home." And with that, he grabs his keys and briefcase, leaving for the day.

\---

While driving to work, Will's mind keeps drifting back to the "conversation" he had with Hannibal the night before. Everything about that interaction seemed genuine, especially when Hannibal said he had Wills' best interest in mind. He was going to talk to Alana today about seeing Hannibal again, and he was going to see him, even if it meant manipulating her. Sure, he had attempted to go back to who he was before Hannibal, but Will still knew how to get his way. He wasn't weak, even if he acted like he was. Excitement swelled in his stomach at just the thought of seeing Hannibal again, but then the apprehension and hostility hit. Even if he didn't want to admit it, Will was terrified of the man. Not because he was scared  _ of  _ him, but because of how easily Hannibal was able to read him. See him, even.

_ BZZZ BZZZ _

The buzzing of Will's phone yanks him from his thoughts. He plucks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen; it's Jack Crawford. With a sigh, he answers the phone, putting it on speaker. "Hello?" 

"Good morning, Will. Do you have a minute? We need to talk." Jack's voice sounds urgent, which piques Will's interest.

"Yeah, I've got a bit. I'm on my way to work." 

"I know you said you didn't want to do more fieldwork, but I need your help. We are at a dead-end in this case, and you're the only person I know that can get us out of dead-ends." Jack hesitates, "I need you to come into the lab today." Will's face falls into a disappointed look even though Jack can't see him. There's a long silence.

"Yeah, I'll be in soon." He finally speaks, and there's a quiet sound of relief on the other side of the line. 

"I owe you one, Will." The line goes dead. Will sits there, his eyes centered on the road. He knew he was going to get pulled back into the darkness, one way or another, whether it was by the hand of Hannibal or Jack. Will didn't really have a say in it, and he knew that.

\----

"The Leeds family. They were all murdered two nights ago—same MO as the last family's killers." Zeller motions to the four bodies laid out on the metal tables, black plastic bags encasing them.

"We think it's the same man who's killing. Both families were killed on a full moon, and both had glass shards placed over their eyes and mouth." Price cuts in, waving his hand around.

"We also think he's in time with the moon's cycle," Zeller states, causing Price to snap back.

"I already said that."

"What? No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did! I said both families were killed on a full moon and-"

"Alright, enough!" Jack cuts them off, groaning with annoyance. He and Will stand next to Mrs. Leeds' body, Will looking down at her, his mind trying to get a firm grasp on what he was seeing. 

"Can I have the autopsy reports?" He asks, glancing up at Zeller with his arm stretching out. Zeller grabs the files off the counter and places them in Will's hands. "I'd like to be left alone."

"Alright. Tell us when to come back in." Jack pats Will on the shoulder, turning to leave, Price and Zeller following close behind. As soon as the glass door shuts, Will opens the files, his eyes promptly examining the reports. He flips through the pictures of blood-soaked corpses and all the evidence the police had found. After a moment or so, he closes his eyes with a sigh.

_ He stands outside the Leeds' glass back door. Gingerly, he places the glass cutter next to the handle and begins cutting. The scratching definitely isn't enough to wake the family, but he is still wary. Eventually, the needle cuts through the last bit of glass, and Will pulls it away, leaving a circular hole. He reaches through with gloved hands, unlocking the door and silently opening it.  _

_ He drags his way up the stairs, almost as if his body is resisting him. Making it to the end of the hall, he opens the bedroom door to find Mr. and Mrs. Leeds fast asleep, and for a moment, he doesn't want to kill them. They look so peaceful... which only feeds into why he has to do this. If he can't have peace, why should they? _

_ He swiftly moves up to the bed, and he cuts Mr.Leeds throat. Gasping, Mr.Leeds rises from the bed, great gouts of blood spraying from his neck and up the wall. Mrs. Leeds wakes up as Will flips on the lights. She lets out a scream when she sees her husband, and Will shoots her in the stomach. She falls onto the bed, and Will leaves the room, walking back down the hall and into the boys' room. One of them lays in his bed with his eyes closed, but he's clearly awake. Will shoots him, walking into the room. He then drags the other boy out from under the bed, shooting him on the floor.  _

_ There's stumbling in the hall, and Will leaves the room just in time to see Mr. Leeds hit the wall and drop to the floor just outside his son's bedroom, utterly unaware of their fate. He walks back into the master bedroom, and that's when the smashing of mirrors begins. _

_ After moving them once, he moves them again, placing them back where he killed them, setting shards of glass over their eyes. He stares down at Mrs. Leeds, who lays on the bed which is drenched in blood. An urge to touch her fills Will's mind as he slips off a glove. He feels the glass over her eyes, accidentally placing his thumb on her eyeball. He smiles down at what he's done before leaving the house, a sense of pride and power coursing through him. Once outside, he stops and stares up at the moon, a loud and guttural sound escaping him.  _

Will opens his eyes, heaving heavy and unsteady breaths. He closes the file, looking around at the bodies. Staring down at the family that closely resembles his, Will realizes how much he hates this. He turns and makes his way to the glass door, opening it with a small nod. Jack, Price, and Zeller follow Will back into the room, waiting on his conclusion. 

"It's a perfect crime, Jack. It may be messy, but he knew what he was doing. He calculated every move he made." Will hands the files back to Zeller before continuing, "He's smart. He probably left no evidence behind."

"You're telling me we aren't going to be able to catch him, even after this?" Jack looks at Will, an almost exasperated look on his face. Will shakes his head, just wanting out of the room already.

"No, he'll mess up. He's bound to." He looks over to Price and Zeller, who watch him intently, almost like a child looks at the mall Santa; slightly scared, but curious. "You both were right. He's in a cycle with the moon. I'm not sure why." 

"Then how will we catch him, Will? Do we have to wait until he kills again? Because I don't want to do that." Jack states, crossing his arms. Will has to stop himself from snapping back, fire burning in his eyes before he quickly puts the flames out as he turns to face Jack once more. 

"You might have to, Jack. I could always stop by the crime scene and take a look around." He pauses to let the words settle. "However, I'd need a favor." This was it. Jack had said he owed Will, so here he was, taking claim of his favor. 

"Do I want to hear this?" 

"Probably not."

"Tell me anyway, since you're the only way we're gonna catch this guy."

"I need to see Hannibal." He drops the words like a bomb, the energy in the room becoming tense. Price and Zeller look to each other before leaving the room, shutting the doors on the way out. "One last time. My therapist suggested it. Said it might help to get proper closure." He tells a half-truth. He knows Jack wouldn't let him see Hannibal unless it was for a good reason.

"Is this about the letter he wrote to you?" Jack asks, his brows furrowing. Will shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. After a long moment, Jack sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, but just this once. I'll call Alana and have her set a time. Until then, I want you to go to class and teach." 

"Thank you, Jack," Will says before making his way out of the room, suppressing a smile. Getting Jack to give in was a lot easier than he thought it was going to be. Maybe it was because he had never asked for anything before.

The rest of the day passes by, agonizingly slow as if someone was purposefully slowing down the clocks just to piss Will off. He gives his lecture he has prepared for the day: psychoanalyzing. He found it humorous that on the day he was to see Hannibal again, Will was giving the same lecture he gave the first time the two had met. He sighs as he sits on his desk, looking around the class at all the students taking notes.

"Remember; on the test, the definitions may not be written the same as your notes. Do not let that confuse you." Will clicks the small remote in his hand, changing the slide being projected onto the board. "If anyone needs to stop by after class, please send me an email or come by tomorrow. I won't have time to stay after today." He shoves the remote in his pants pocket and crosses his arms, looking over his shoulder at the board. 

Finally, the clock hands reach 4:30, and Will dismisses the class. "The test is on Monday. You have the weekend to go over everything we have learned this year, and I recommend you use your time to study." Will calls out to anyone listening. He walks behind his desk and starts gathering papers, shoving them in his bag, as the room empties. His mind is racing as Will thinks about Hannibal. What was he even going to say to him? They hadn't seen each other in 3 years, and Will hadn't bothered to think about him much through those years. If he was being honest, Will thought about Hannibal every day, but he didn’t want to admit that...

“Will?” There’s a voice from the doorway, and Will glances up to see who it is. Alana stands in the middle of the entrance in a bright red suit, a hand on her hip and a cane in the other. He smiles up at her as he clasps his bag shut, and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair.

“Alana. What made you decide to come and see me?” Will questions, making his way around his desk and approaching her, setting his bag on the floor and slipping into his jacket. “I’m assuming you got the call from Jack?”

“That’s actually why I’m here. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go see Hannibal.” Her face softens when Will stops a few feet in front of her. “You know he’s not good for you.” Will lets out an almost annoyed sigh as he straightens his sleeves and picks up his bag.

“My therapist said it would be beneficial for me to see him. To get proper closure.”

“Do you think it would help you? To get proper closure, I mean.” 

“Alana, I’m never sure what will or what could help me.” Will’s mouth presses into a thin line, his brows furrowing. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. “Why do you think I have a therapist?” That was a lie. The only reason Will decided to have a therapist was because it was Bedelia. She knew Hannibal as well as Will did, and that was what they talked about most of the time: Hannibal. 

Alana sighs, “If your therapist thinks seeing him will aid in your recovery, then I can’t really say no, can I?” There’s a long silence before she speaks again, “Does Molly know?” 

“She knows. I asked her if she was okay with me seeing him.” He blatantly lies. Molly had no idea that he was going to see Hannibal, and Will had no intentions of her finding out. She knew that he was his therapist, and she didn’t need to know more than that.

“Alright, then.” She begins walking out of the room, Will walking next to her. “How has life been treating you? Well, I hope?” She says, looking over at him with a soft smile. Will's heart nearly jumps into his throat.  _ Those were the same words Hannibal said to me _ , he thought, his eyes focused ahead. 

“It’s been well. Molly and I have been taking in more dogs, and Wally is doing great in school.” He replies, pushing his free hand into his jacket pocket. “The wedding was beautiful, but you already know that. You and Margot were there.” 

“It was.” She chuckles, “Do you remember how Price and Zeller kept adjusting your suit, even after your vows? It’s like they were clinging onto you all night!” She smiles, covering her mouth as she laughs. 

“God, yeah. It really did feel like they were attached to me.” Will laughs along with her, trying to act interested in the conversation. “What’s going on between those two, anyways?” He asks, genuinely curious. He had seen the way they looked at each other and heard the way they bickered back and forth. 

“What do you mean?” Alana looks back over at Will, still quietly laughing. He raises a brow at her with a ‘ _ you know what I mean’  _ look on his face. Alana's brows raise, and her eyes widen a bit when she realizes what he means. “Oooh,”

“Have you heard them bicker? It’s constant and over the most trivial of things. Almost like a married couple.” He mentions, opening the door and motioning for Alana to go first. The smile drops from his face as he follows Alana into the parking lot.

“You make a good point.” She says, turning back to face Will as she stops next to her car. “I have to head home for a short while, so I’ll meet you there.” She nods as she puts her cane in the back seat, then gets into her car. 

Will turns and makes his way to his car, sighing heavily, glad to be out of the conversation. While he liked talking to Alana, he just wasn’t in the mood. He opens his car door and climbs in, depositing his bag in the passenger's seat. He plucks his car keys from his pocket and sticks them in the ignition, starting the car. Placing his hands on the steering wheel, he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. 

He hadn't expected to be this anxious about seeing Hannibal, and that was getting to him. Why was he so worried? This would be like any other time they had seen each other, nothing more and nothing less—just a simple conversation to ascertain why Hannibal had sent the letter. Maybe he could get proper closure like he said he would. After this, Will would never think about Hannibal again, and he would lead a happy, everyday life. He sighs, leaning his head against the headrest. It was wishful thinking, but Will knew that wouldn't happen. He would always be haunted by the dark shadow he called his friend. 

Will opens his eyes and puts the car in drive, maneuvering his way out of the parking lot. It was a twenty-minute drive to the BSHCI on a good day with no traffic, but it was rush hour on a Friday, meaning Will would have plenty of time to think about what he wants to say to Hannibal once he gets there.

\-----

Will walks through one door and then another, a false air of confidence to his gait. He knows he has to enter the room on the metaphorical high ground if he wants to get any answers out of Hannibal. That's how it had always been before, so he figures it won’t be any different now. He stops outside of the double doors and takes off his jacket, draping it over his arm. He straightens out his button-up, then walks forward, opening the door. The room is deafeningly quiet, save for Will's footsteps and graphite scratching against paper as Hannibal sketches at his desk.

"That's the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court," Hannibal says, looking up at Will.

"Hello, Dr. Lecter," Will says, stopping in front of the glass screen, his ears ringing loudly. 

"Hello, Will," Hannibal stands from his desk, then sets his pencil down, adjusting it until it's lined up with the others. Will watches him intently as he nears the glass, standing across from him. "Did you get my note?"

"I got it. Thank you." Will states, his eyes looking everywhere but Hannibals. After a moment, his eyes finally settling on the space between Hannibal's eyebrows.

“Did you read it before you destroyed it?" Hannibal pauses, his mouth somewhat agape as he studies Will's figure, eyes dragging down him. "Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?" He slightly tilts his head as he looks back to Will's face.

"I read it...and then I burnt it." Will watches Hannibal with an unknown expectancy.

"And you came anyway." Hannibal approaches the glass before continuing. "I'm glad you came. My other callers are all...professional—banal psychiatrists and grasping second-raters—pencil lickers.”

Will’s eyes look around, his mouth slightly open as he searches for an answer. "I just want some answers, Dr. Lecter." His eyes focus on Hannibal's face.

"Yes, I thought so." There's a pause as Hannibal stares at Will, who feels as if Hannibal can see straight through him and into the deepest recesses of his mind. "Are we no longer on a first-name basis?" 

"I'm more comfortable the less personal we are." There's a silence as Hannibal's eyes look down as he breathes deeply, thinking.

"I smell dogs...and pine, and oil beneath that shaving lotion." He looks back up to Will, a look of interest on his face. "It's something a child would pick, isn't it? Is there a child in your life, Will? I gave you a chance, if you recall."

Will bites the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from snapping back. How dare he speak of Abigail like she was some object...like he had the right to take her away from him. Then again, Will knew it was his fault Abigail had died. If only he hadn't betrayed Hannibal... "I came about the letter, Hannibal. Why did you send it? Why, after all this time?"

"Will, even though I am here, locked away, that doesn't mean I do not have your best interests in mind." Hannibal grins lightly, tipping his head a bit downwards. 

"I thought you would say that."

There's a long uncomfortable silence between the pair as the grin on Hannibal's face grows into something like a closed-mouth smile but with undertones of sass.

"You just came here to look at me," Hannibal states in a matter-of-fact tone, and Will knows he's right. "Came to get the old sent again. Why don't you just smell yourself?"

Will rolls his eyes with a scoff, shifting his weight to his other foot. "I expected more of you, Doctor." He turns to the side, keeping his gaze on the older man. "The routine...is old hat." He goes to turn away when Hannibal quickly cuts in as if he's afraid if Will leaves, he will never come back.

"Whereas you are a new man. Are you a good father, Will?" There's yet another silence between them as a particular type of hatred simmers into Will's throat, burning his esophagus. "Or do you fear you won't be able to protect them the same way you couldn't protect Abigail?" 

"Don't talk about her like that," Will snaps, walking back towards the glass, the anger showing on his face. "Don't you dare act like you don't take any responsibility for her death," Will heaves an unsteady breath, his hand running through his hair. "Do you have any idea how horrible it feels to call your son your dead daughter's name? The looks I get from Molly makes me want to go out to the river and drown." Will has to bite his lip to keep himself from continuing, his eyes staring into the floor. This is exactly what Hannibal wanted, and he was slipping into his trap. 

"I'm sorry I took her away from you, Will...but you know it had to be done," Hannibal says in a softer tone, which causes Will to stare back up at him. There's an almost melancholy look on Hannibal's face. "Do you visit her often?" 

Will thinks back to all the restless nights he spent at Abigail's grave during the first year that Hannibal was locked away. How he would sit on the grass, leaning against her marble gravestone, and talk about how he was doing. By the end of the night, he was usually sputtering out apologies between feverish sobs, fists slamming onto the dirt.

"Yes," he sighs. "Not much anymore, but I did every night during that first year."

Hannibal hums a sound before turning and making his way back to his desk, leaving Will alone at the glass wall, his tired reflection staring back at him. This isn't where he wanted this to go, not one bit. Hannibal's hands slip into one of the drawers, pulling out a piece of paper. He studies it for a moment before stepping over to the tray in the glass. Will joins him there and grasps the parchment as it comes through the opening. It's a sketch of Abigail, smiling radiantly with a flower tucked behind her ear. His eyes burn as he pockets the picture, then looks back up to Hannibal, who watches him.

"What will you do, now that you have seen me? Will you go back to your family and live a normal life, or will you run to Jack Crawford?" Hannibal sets his hands behind his back, an expectant look on his face. 

"I'm not sure," Will states slowly. "Jack wants me back in the field, and well..." he motions vaguely to Hannibal, who slightly raises his brows in response. 

"What are you insinuating?" 

“Nothing,” Will adjusts the jacket draped over his arm in an effort to distract himself from the thought in his head; he wasn't sure whether he was returning home or not because now he had seen Hannibal and didn't want to leave him. Not again. He glances down at his watch.

"Our time is up, I think," Hannibal says, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Will, who sighs. "You will be coming back, yes?" 

Will contemplates for a long moment, his lips somewhat parted, "I don't have much of an option, do I? You've left me with more inquiries than explanations, Dr. Lecter." He steps closer to the glass that separates them, Hannibal doing the same.

"When should I be expecting to see you again?" Hannibal questions, his eyes darting around Will's face like he was working on memorizing every small detail as if he hadn't done that already. 

"I'm not sure; I'll have to talk to Alana." there's a long pause before Will talks, "Goodbye, Hannibal." He turns and takes long strides towards the doors, ready to get out of there as soon as possible. Right before his hand grabs the doorknob, Hannibal speaks again.

"Will. Was it good to see me?"

Will stops, looking over his shoulder and back at the older man. No, it wasn't good to see him. It was so much more than that. It was exciting, yet anxious. Angering and comfortable. "Good?" he scoffs, "No."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope this was okay. Ive been writing this for over a month while trying to balance school and mental health, so it could be better. Anyways, if anything seems or sounds off, let me know. 
> 
> Also, chapters will come out slowly. Sorry about that


End file.
